Page 66 of Gatsby's Starlet
I hadn’t taken more than a few steps before his hand closed around my wrist, not rough but firm enough that I stopped without thinking, my breath catching as he pulled me back just enough to get my attention without dragging me fully out of sight, the movement controlled in a way that made it feel deliberate rather than reactive.
“Evie,” he said, low and close, his voice hard in a way that told me he wasn’t letting this go.
I turned toward him, my pulse already climbing as I tried to get ahead of it. “Gatsby—”
“Something’s wrong,” he cut in, not mean but direct, his hand sliding from my wrist to my arm in a grounding hold that kept me there without making a scene, “and it’s not just tonight.”
I shook my head, forcing a breath that didn’t quite steady me as I tried to deflect. “I told you, it’s just been—”
“Don’t,” he said, quieter this time, but it stopped me just the same, because there was no edge in it, just certainty.
His eyes stayed on mine, searching, not accusing, not suspicious in the way I’d been bracing for, but focused, like he was trying to understand me instead of catch me, and that somehow made it worse.
“You don’t get like this for no reason,” he said, his voice dropping further, the edge gone now, replaced with something steadier, something that settled low in my chest whether I wanted it to or not. “Talk to me.”
That nearly broke me, because he meant it, not as a test or a trap but because he cared in a way that made it harder to lie than it should have been, my throat tightening as my fingers curled at my sides while everything I’d been holding back pushed up at once, pressing hard against the line I wasn’t supposed to cross.
“I just…” I started, my voice quieter now, less certain, my gaze dropping for half a second before I forced it back up to his, knowing if I looked away too long I wouldn’t say any of it.
He didn’t move, didn’t interrupt, just waited, and I felt it, that space he was giving me, that opening to step into something real instead of dancing around it like I had been all night.
“I don’t know how to say it,” I admitted finally, the words coming slower now, heavier as I let them out. “There’s… something going on.”
His jaw tightened slightly, not in anger but in focus as he leaned into it. “What kind of something?”
I hesitated, just for a second, then pushed through it because I knew if I didn’t say it now I wouldn’t say it at all.
“Ruby,” I said, my voice dropping without meaning to as my body shifted a fraction closer to his, like proximity could make it safer to speak. “She got me—”
The words cut off before I could finish, not because I chose to stop but because something shifted behind him, something I felt before I heard or saw it, a prickle along the back of my neck that pulled my attention past Gatsby’s shoulder without thinking.
And there he was.
Kane wasn’t hiding, wasn’t even pretending to, leaning just enough against the far edge of the building to pass for casual if you didn’t know better, but his gaze was already locked on me, fixed in a way that said he’d been waiting for it, waiting for me to look, like he’d been watching the entire time just for this moment.
My stomach dropped hard, the realization hitting all at once as his hand moved in a slow, deliberate motion that wasn’t obvious unless you knew what to look for, the shift of his jacket revealing just enough of the gun tucked into his waistband before his fingers brushed over it once in a movement that felt almost idle.
Not pulling it or flashing it, just shifting enough for me to see the gun at his side and understand exactly what he meant, the message settling in cold and ugly beneath my ribs like a reminder, a warning, and worse than either of those, a promise of what would happen if I didn’t keep my damn mouth shut.
My breath caught stinging and immediate, every word I’d been about to say dying in my throat before it could make it out, my chest tightening so fast it almost hurt as I forced everything back down.
“Evie?” Gatsby’s voice pulled me back, closer now, edged with concern, and when I looked at him again I could see it starting, the way his focus sharpened, the way his grip tightenedjust slightly on my arm as he read the shift in me even if he didn’t understand it yet.
I blinked, dragging my gaze fully back to him, forcing my expression into something that didn’t give anything away even as my pulse pounded hard enough I was sure he could feel it through the space between us. “What?” I said, too quickly.
His brows pulled together as he held my gaze. “You were saying something about Ruby,” he said, but his attention didn’t stay locked on me entirely, his instincts already pulling at him as his gaze flicked just slightly past me, following where mine had been a second too long.
Too close.
Before he could turn further, before his attention could land where it shouldn’t, I stepped in, my hand catching lightly at his shirt and pulling his focus back to me in a movement that looked natural but wasn’t. “It’s nothing,” I said quickly.
A lie.
And this time I knew he heard it, because something shifted in him, not suspicion, not yet, but something tighter, something more alert, frustration and concern sitting just under the surface along with something protective starting to edge in.
“Evie, if it’s something I can help with,” he said, quieter now but more intent, his eyes searching mine like he was trying to hold me there long enough to get the truth before it slipped away again.
I forced a breath, shaking my head again, softer this time as I pulled back just slightly. “It’s just… old stuff. It doesn’t matter.”
